


Just take a breath and softly say goodbye

by lexark (orphan_account)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lexark
Summary: "You let go of a stuttered breath because God, you understand it. You get how Lex was seduced and amazed and so drawn to Clark Kent, to the naïve, smiling, extremely nice boy. You feel it in your bones and you wonder if this is how you will end too. If you will, like him, lose yourself in the arms of something from outer space."





	

“So here we are, fighting and trying to hide the scars. I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.” 

– Here We Are, Breaking Benjamin.

 

 

When you were eight, you used to sit on the back of your dad’s car and listen to his old songs. You liked to look up at the sky and the tall buildings around you and sometimes you’d sing along to the music absently, wishing you could fly up and touch the stars with your own little hands.

You were always drawn to it. The impossible. The extraordinaire. To the things out of your range.

You remember being thirteen and stepping into your brother’s room only to find him kneeled down on the floor with a look of concentration on his face while opening a blender. (He used to have a wrinkle between his brows whenever he was working on something big). When you asked him what he was doing, he shrugged and said to you that he was curious about its functions. Soon you were on your knees too, helping him out.

Thinking back, that’s probably the reason you became an engineer.

There is no old songs now. No home appliances to crack open and study and learn and rebuild. No wrinkle between your older brother’s brows. He is dead. And so is your father.

You still have a hard time trying to conceive the idea that the brother that used to hold your hand after a nightmare – the one who helped you build a lampshade for stormy nights – is the mass murderer xenophobic that almost achieved to kill the man of steel.

Clark Kent is someone you used to hear about for years. You recall the jealousy burning on the pit of your stomach whenever Lex would talk about his best friend. By then, you were already on the boarding school, in Ireland, feeling like this great handsome farm boy served as your replacement in your brother’s life.

Sometimes you wonder if maybe Lex’s craziness began over a simply heartbreak that turned into obsession.

Love can do that to a person. So you’ve heard.

The thump against the floor of your balcony is familiar to your ears. No matter how much you want to turn and meet her halfway, you don’t. You can’t. Your eyes are on the silhouette of the city that you’ve grown fond of, despite how many times you have been attacked because of the family you belong to. (Sometimes you wonder which one is heavier; the symbol on her chest or the brand that is your name).

You don’t have to look at her, though. You can sense her warmth as she comes closer, unrushed.  She walks to you as if she is approaching the unknown and you purse your lips, grips the glass of whiskey harder on your hand and stops breathing for just a few seconds.

Slowly, she stands right behind you – and you swear under your breath because your whole body trembles hard, uncontrollably. Everything crumbles under her touch, after all, even your strongest walls. You know that by now.

You close your eyes and suddenly all you can feel is her front slightly pressed on your back, her hand coming to hold your waist and her forehead resting on your shoulder.

You let go of a stuttered breath because  _ God _ , you understand it. You get how Lex was seduced and amazed and so drawn to Clark Kent, to the naïve, smiling, extremely nice boy. You feel it in your bones and you wonder if this is how you will end too. If you will, like him, lose yourself in the arms of something from outer space.

She takes the glass from your hand, placing it somewhere behind you, before wrapping her arms around your waist – shielding you from the world without you asking her to. You’ve learned that she tends to do that to the people she cares about the most.

You remember being here with her a year ago, after you sent your mother to prison. Like now, she too approached you in silence. She whispered an apology and a shy thank you. You remember her telling you about her father and her mother and wondering who else in the world had the privilege to know those kind of things about her.

You wondered how is it to lose everyone and still be able to face the world.

She kisses your shoulder lightly and rests her chin over there. You keep your eyes closed as you tip your head back against hers, and it’s comfortable and cozy and you suddenly feel tired – too tired to keep hurting.

You almost ask her if you are a horrible person for loving and missing them; Lionel who was just as bad as Lilian, who was just as bad as Lex. But then you remember her telling you about Astra and her parents and you already know the answer you’d get.

 

“Let me take you home,” She says against your ear. Her soft, protective voice cutting the silence that hovered around you two, making you shiver again even though her warmth surrounds your body and fills your senses.

She says the word home and you don’t think about the apartment that little by little has been filled with happiness and her messy papers from CatCo; filled with midnight laughs and whispered confessions on the break of dawn; filled with the sense of belonging and the smell of plumerias she always gifts you every time she breaks your furniture.

No, you don’t think about a place. You think about her arms that now keep you steady. Of hands that hold you with intimacy and adoration, tight but not – never – suffocating. You think about a sunny smile and the myriad shades of blue swirled together in her eyes. You think about Kara and all of the things that make her your home.

“I already am.” You whisper back.

 

Later, you know, you will lay in your bed with her and the silence will be enough. The realization that Lex – the boy who would clumsily stumble on his own feet sometimes; the teenager who would put his hand on your shoulder as if welcoming you into his life; the man who, in the middle of his obsession, would still fight for what he thought was right – is dead will sink in.

You know you will finally break under her understanding gaze and soft touches. You know your cry will make an echo in your bedroom, tainting the walls with one more hurt; one more sob in grief.

Later, much later, you will both watch the sunrise – She will reach for your hand and you will feel her fingertips tracing the lines of your palm. For the first time, will you understand what is it to crumble just to be put back together by love and finally accept that perhaps you deserve it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thx Canvas for being my beta. xx


End file.
